A Girl Named Jack: The Rewrite!
by Name1
Summary: Jack has never had what could be considered a normal life but being a possessed by an ancient, florescent tree is pretty much pushing it - even for her. Cleaned up, rewritten and fleshed out. Give it a try, you might be surprised. Little to none MS.
1. Of Names, Childhood and Madness

So, this is the official rewrite of A Girl Name Jack. I really hope you guys enjoy it and give me feed back so I know how you feel about it. This story has always been and while continue to be very, very book heavy - Trilogy and Similarion. I will be honest, it says romance but it's gonna be a looooooong time before it comes rolling into the story. So for now, enjoy the plot, characters and humor and I promised I'll bring some smooching along eventually.

* * *

A Girl Named Jack

**Chapter 1**

_Of Names_

1982 CE - June 17th

A man passed back and forward in the maternity waiting room, his fists were balled in frustration. How long were they expecting to make him wait? It'd been over eight hours already.

"Sit down, Jacob, you're giving me one hell of a headache." Capp Templite leaned heavily on his cane as he watched his youngest son pace.

By his side, his wife stirred, setting her knitting on her lap. "Oh come now Capp, he's just stressed."

"Stressed? I'll give you stressed woman. Try the beaches of Normandy – Why I,'" The door to the waiting room opened, saving the room from yet another war story. Jacob jumped from his chair and all but ran to the doctor's side. A heavy frown filled the elderly man's face as he saw the look on the doctor's pinched face, his eyes traveling to the blood staining the front of his scrubs.

"Mr. Templite-"

Jacob interrupted him, his entire body quivering. Capp knew how long his son had been waiting for this moment. "How's my son?"

"...Sir, there's been some complications."

Capp quickly stood and hobbled over to his son's side, leaning on his cane heavily. His son's face had lost his color.

"Is my grandson alive?" Capp demanded. The strange look of unease past across the doctor's face again before he nodded quickly.

"Well, yes-"

Almost like a switch the color flooded back into Jacob's face. "And Lily?"

The doctor sighed and crossed his arms. "Well sir, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The birth was very difficult. You see, sometimes the baby gets twisted – it comes out the wrong way. If it had been a simple breech birth, we could most likely have saved her uterus. But the baby came in what's called a transverse position. That is, the baby is lying with its shoulders or back over the cervix - sideways. By the time we operated and got the baby out, there was so much damage we had no choice but to do an emergency hysterectomy. Without it, your wife probably would have bled to death."

"Hysterectomy? You mean…she can't have anymore children?" The doctor nodded. "But the baby's alright?"

"Yes, she's a healthy eight pounds, seven ounces."

"A girl?" Jacob sputtered in disbelief. "It's a girl?"

A small gasp escaped behind them and the soft clicking of Norma's knitting needles came to a halt. Capp took a deep breath through his nose before glazing at the end of his cane in discontent. By his side Jacob was still staring at the doctor, slow disbelief blooming into humiliation and then anger. The doctor looked between the two men, confusion clearly written all over his face.

"Yes. Is that a problem?" Capp fought the urge to smack the doctor for the condescending tone he used. What a fool. A girl was completely useless, especially in modern times. But more then that, they needed Jacob's child to be a son, to keep the Templite line going strong and pure. After the 'incident' with his firstborn's traitorous wife, this pregnancy was to be the savior of their line. And now…now all the work that had gone into creating this child was wasted.

"Everything is fine." Jacob said stiffly. "Has Lily named her yet?"

"No. She told me to ask you for the name."

"Take me to her." The doctor nodded before leading the small group to a small recovery room down the hall. The pale and sweaty woman perked up instantly upon seeing them and Capp was satisfied to see the shame that burned against her already crimson cheeks. Lily's eyes flashed to his face but she couldn't hold Capp's evaluating glare and instantly looked down to her clutched hands.

Good. At least she knew they weren't pleased.

"I'm so sorry, Jacob." Lily whispered softly, still staring at her hands. Jacob nodded before sitting by his wife's side and kissing her forehead.

"Hush baby, it's not your fault." Capp felt an even deeper frown tug at his lips. Jacob was always so easy on his wife, he hardly ever disciplined her. He supposed he could not fault his son for being to kind hearted towards her, Norma had quite a pull on his own heart strings.

Capp glanced around the empty room, before rounding on the doctor. "Where is it?"

"I asked them to take her to the nursery." The doctor said, "I'll have a nurse fetch her."

Lily looked up with a happy smile as Norma brushed her hair back. Capp watched as the two women interact. Childbirth was truly a woman's world and he felt it was about time the men left it. The nurse returned with the child and Capp found himself routed to the spot in curiosity. There was a soft patch of black hair and deep, dark blue eyes that stared around the room.

Norma took the girl into her arms, cooing to her as she sat gently on the bed. She glanced at her son. "Jacob, hunny? Have you thought of a name?"

Jacob leaned back and stared blankly at the child. Capp leaned on his cane, the wheels in his mind already turning as he watched his son struggle with a name. After a moment his son turned from the babe.

"Jack. Name her Jack."

The nurse with a small clipboard looked up and surprise, her pen hovering over the paper. "Do you mean…like…Jacklyn?"

"No fool women," Jacob snapped, "I mean-"

"Yes." Capp interrupted sharply. Appropriately cowed, his son stared at the infant in his wife's arms. "He means Jacklyn. Jacklyn Templite. That is her given name."

The nurse flushed before writing Jacklyn down on the birth form. Capp watched in mild interest as the nurse's hands shook under his scrutiny. This situation would be tricky. It was going to be hard not to lose standing with the Families over this, but there were ways to manage it. Having a girl for you're first born was considered bad luck, especially in modern days. A girl child hadn't been a first born on the Templite lands since the eighteen hundreds.

For the first time of many pregnancies, Capp wished he had opted for the ultra sound. The Families didn't believe in it, it was only ten years ago that they had even started going to hospitals to give birth, before then it was simply held in the home while the men worked the fields. Abortions were out of the question, all Templite blood was to be used. But they could have hidden the pregnancy, given the child up to the State. Still. It was a situation that could be managed. As an elder and a land holder in the Templite community, few would dare say their treacherous words to his face. Jacklyn would be an outcast, but that would be the way it had to be. She would be raised as a ward of their house and an alternate heir to their lands must be found. Capp could already feel his greedy cousin's breath on the back of his neck – they would see this an excuse to take his lands from him.

But that would not happen. They were the first Templites. All the Families that lived on the colony could trace their ancestors back to his grandfather's grandfather. Capp would be damned if they would lose standing because of his son's mishap.

He limped to his wife's side, staring down at his granddaughter with calculating eyes. "While unfortunate, this is a situation that is salvageable."

Jacob started. "Father?"

"We shall adopt." The incredulous look grew on Jacob's face but Capp knew his son wouldn't dare interrupt him. "It will do the colony good to get some fresh blood in. We can find a boy of the appropriate standards." And when the time comes, Capp continued mentally as he took the groggy child from his wife's arm and stared down into the dark, undecided blue eyes, we shall ensure a union that will present us with a more favorable result. Capp handed the baby to his daughter-in-law. "Until then, we shall endure."

* * *

Doctor Frank Apella shook his head as he watched the scene unfold from the opposite side of the sound proof glass. Those Templites always freaked the hell out of him. He'd only moved to this area a few years ago and while they rarely ever came into the hospital, he dreaded every time he had to deal with them. A bunch of fucking loonies if you asked him. Cultists, given free reign to recruit and live off the land. They owned expansive tracks of land of which they farmed with little or no taxation and though their children went to public school, his son told him that their girls were extremely restricted in what they could wear. To quote him, 'It's like they came strolling in from back in time, I ain't seeing any leg dad, it's sad – some of those chicks are hot.'

Unbelievable. He watched the men handle the child like it was not their own. The only love the baby seemed to be getting were from the women and even then it was a reserved touch, as if they were afraid whatever stigma the little one had would be passed onto them. He was still watching, wishing to hell he could call social services and convince them to take the child away, when Jill took the child back to the nursery. He followed suit, sharing a bizarre silence with the nurse that spoke volumes on how creeped out they both were by the situation.

He stared at the baby, reading the name given to it with pressed lips. 'Jacklyn Templite.'

Who knew what this kid's future held. The Templite's weren't exactly inbred but they did marry closely – outside of school and work their children had almost no contact with the real world. Women were repressed, treated like stock almost from what he had heard. What was going to become of little Jacklyn? The baby girl he had struggled almost two hours in surgery to save? Almost without thinking Dr. Apella stuck his pointer finger into the crib as the child burst into cries. A tiny hand grasped it and her cries stopped almost immediately at the contact.

The little tiny form in pink made Frank's heart hurt and he stroked the child's stomach soothingly, trying to rid the bitter taste in his mouth. He felt an overwhelming need to call his wife, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave her just quite yet.

"Good luck, little one." He murmured softly, "I think you're going to need it."

* * *

_Of Childhood_

1985 CE - April 18th

Jack watched quietly as her father lifted her older brother into his arms, twisting him around playfully in the air. She stood, awkward in her stiff, colorless cotton dress, her black hair shorn unusually short. Even at five she understood all to well her situation. She was an unwanted child, an untouchable one.

It had been clear to her for as long as she could remember. While the other girls got to play and run with their brothers, Jack only did the endless list of chores her grandfather gave her. She could only watch her brother from afar. While the other girls had long, pretty hair that were in braids that made her burn with jealously, her hair was kept short, shooting out at uneven angles. While they wore dresses of pink and green and red she only ever wore black. And while they wore their pretty dresses to school, she went in jeans and t-shirts - her brother's clothing.

She had done something terribly wrong, though Jack had no idea what it was and honestly had never thought to question it. The other children didn't play with her; they understood what the black dresses meant, just like Jack did. Alex had played with her a few times; her brother had been interested in her when he first arrived. But just like the others he learned and eventually even he stayed away.

The only solace came in the small comforts her mother and grandmother gave to her. Her mother always came, late at night when the noises that leaked down from her parent's room died down, with sweat bread and warm hands. She would pull Jack into her lap, singing tenderly and teaching her hand games. Sometimes, when Jack had truly angered her father, her mother would come with cold meat and curdled milk to take the sting out of her cuts and bruises.

Her grandmother taught her woman ways and though she was harsh, she was gentle too. Once, while they cooked dinner for the house, her grandmother had taught her the most important lesson she would ever learn. While Jack had nibbled on the vegetable sandwich that would be her own dinner, careful to eat around a split lip, her grandmother had stopped cooking and watched her.

_"Jacklyn," _She had said in that same, soft voice she always spoke with and Jack had straightened on the wooden stool like she'd been slapped. No one ever used her full name. _"I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to prove to me you're not as dull as I think and listen, I'm not going to say it twice. You're father is not a well man. You must never act like a girl, never be weak or simple like you're mother and me. Be strong, powerful, smart - like a man. And he may love you."_

It was the first and only time she had ever heard anything about her father's illness. After that night she never picked flowers, never let her father see her covered in dough or knitting or weaving. It was a hard balance, when her father came she had to hide her woman chores but if her grandfather caught her not doing them she was beaten.

On the other side of the fence Alex laughed as her father set him gently on the ground, his hand ruffling his blonde hair. She loved her brother's hair. It was just like her father and mother's hair. Hers was dark as soot, the color of grandmother's hair. She longed to have the love her father and grandfather so easily lavished on her brother. Jack wanted so badly to play with her brother. She loved him dearly; all girls loved their brother's dearly, they were the center of the household. Wealth was measured in how many boys the household had to help in the fields.

She sighed as she returned to pumping water. Her arms ached but she refused to stop. She would be strong like a man; she would be smart and handy. She would not be weak like her mother. She would win her father's love.

* * *

_Of Madness_

1999 CE - June 25th

The bruises stretched across her skin like a snake had crawled across it in paint. They were a dark, angry grayish-blue color. They hurt like a bitch and the long sleeved shirt she wore made her insanely hot in the over heated classroom. But she knew she had to hide them. The State mostly kept out of the affairs of the Templites, they were a religious group and as such their practices were left alone, but they did still have power. Child services had taken a child from them once before and the Families were weary.

But even Jack knew that the beatings she got from her father were far from average for a Templite girl. She had become amazingly good at hiding the bruises from her teachers. But it was okay, she never blamed her father or grandfather. Her father was…not well. She had driven him mad and if she could not act like a man enough for him not to correct her, she would accept his blows as punishment for driving away his sanity. The bruises she bore now were not solely from her father though, she had been breaking in a new work horse to the plow and the bruises that were on her forearms came from the leather reigns she had wrapped around them to keep control. It was strictly men work – except for Jack. She had proven herself to the Templite community as a competent and a capable worker and though they still avoided her because of her social stigma, they no longer questioned her when she took up men work.

But even that omega status had eased - the isolation had ever so slowly lessened over the years. Between her work ethic and personality, Jack had won over many of her cousins. She had taken her grandmother's words to heart; she was witty enough with them to keep them laughing and she found her services requested often when it came to group work. Jack took great pride in the fact that they found her witty, a characteristic thought reserved for men.

She had even heard one of her many cousin's say that she had a man's soul. It was why Jack had kept her hair short, even when normal girls her age had braids down to their rumps. It was also why her mother and grandmother had stopped giving her dress patterns – Jack now worked on the colony in the clothes of a man. She could keep a house like a woman but she ran it with the efficiency of a man. But still, it was not always enough for her father. Even with the combined efforts of both Alex and herself taking most of the burden of fieldwork and animal care from him, Jacob was still not happy.

"Jack."

The dark spot receding into her hairline was proof of his latest anger. But Jack didn't care. She had lost control of the mare when she had panicked and the horse had hurt herself on the plow. She knew, deep inside her mind, that it was because her upper body strength was not as strong as her brother's. She knew it was because her father saw her true weakness – she was a woman and when reminded of how that would forever make her weak her father had become distraught.

"Jack."

Jack didn't blame him. She loved her father. The proudest moment of her life had come after last fall's harvest, when Jack had worked long hours in the field with the men and had been invited – for the first time ever – by her father to join them at the dinner table. It was the closest thing to affection she had ever received from him and it only served to reinforce her grandmother's words. She could make her father love her. She was close now…she just had to be.

The problem was that Jack's rambunctious personality didn't quite work so well in the world outside of the colony. It was almost as if they very same thing that kept her alive in the colony was killing her in the real world. Her teachers all referred to her as a 'giant smart-ass' and she had so many detentions as of late that her father was beating her almost every day. It didn't help that sports were out and she could no longer lie about being at track practice when she was at detention. That was the one thing that the colony embraced wholly from the outside world. Every Templite son was involved in some sort of sport. Jack had gone into track, cross country. She was decent, though she hardly ever placed, but it kept her father and grandfather off her back.

Jack nearly jumped out of her seat as the desk shook, a text book slamming into it with enough force to send her stuff flying everywhere. Her English teacher, Mr. Ralif, stared down at her with annoyed amusement.

"Are you having problems with your ears?" The balding English teacher asked politely, crossing his arms. Jack shot him her best apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was paying attention." From his seat across from her, Alex snorted. Jack sent him a glare. Ralif picked up the book, shaking his head.

"You're a terrible liar, Jacklyn." Instinctively Jack winced at the sound of her full name. Teachers were the only people who ever used it. "What was the last thing I said?"

"That I'm having some serious hearing issues." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and Jack mentally slapped herself as Mr. Ralif's face flat lined. The book in his hand quivered and for a frightening moment she thought he was going to smack her with it. Next to her Alex groaned and brought his hand up to rub his forehead.

"Ha-ha. Well, smart ass, you get the joy of staying after school with me. Again." Jack couldn't control the horror that flashed across her face. That would be the third time this week, and Jack had promised to help Alex clean the stables today. The beating she was going to get tonight was going to be far worse if her father thought she'd shrugged her duties and left her brother to do it all.

"Wait, Mr. Ralif," Jack looked up at him pleadingly, "Can't we talk about this? I mean, can't I write something-"

"Quiet!" Ralif returned to his desk, shaking his head as he threatened to add another hour onto the detention. Jack stared at the blackboard forlornly. It was going to be bad when she got home. Alex flicked her hard in the arm, giving her the glare of all glares. He mouthed 'dumbass' before reaching out to flick her again. Instinctively Jack moved out of the way, pushing her literature book onto the floor with a loud thud.

She didn't even bother to look up when Ralif added another hour onto her detention. She spent the rest of the half hour in her seat miserable, trying not to envision the amount of trouble she was going to be in. Jack didn't understand why she seemed to bother her teachers so much – she was just trying to be funny. She wasn't being disrespectful. Why did her cousins and uncles think it was so funny on the colony if it was such a bad thing?

The bell rang and Alex's binder found the back of her head before Jack even had time to defend herself.

"You're an idiot, Jack. How hard is it not to piss him off?" Alex asked, shaking his head disapprovingly before crossing his arms. Jack shook her head and gave a muted apology. Her golden haired brother sighed.

"Listen, Dad's gonna really be pissed, so don't even worry about coming to the stables. I'll get Louis to help me with it." Jack gave her older brother a dumb founded look. He flashed her a charming yet quite threatening smile. "He's going to beat the shit out of you enough as it is."

"Thanks for the reminder." Jack muttered, letting her forehead bang against the desk. When Alex didn't continue she rolled her head to the side and found her him staring at her intently. As quickly as it came the intense look was gone and he returned to his mocking spree. Again, the beautiful smirk took his face.

"You just gotta stop pissing him off so much, Jackie-boy." Alex shook his head. "You know he's never quite forgiven you for hitting puberty."

There was series of snickers from around them and Jack fought the anger of humiliation that boiled up in her chest. Her cousins had arrived from their classes. Teasing and humiliating her was not something that was considered bullying – it was reaffirming their social status over her. By reminder her of the very truth she didn't want to face in front of them, Alex had put her in her place while asserting his. Jack forced herself to take a deep breath. She loved her brother, but sometimes she just wanted to put his smug little face where it belonged – around her fist. Her knuckles ached to be cracked in anticipation. She had almost won the last boxing match on the colony. Her Uncle Dell had taken made short work of her though and then Alex had beaten him.

"I really hate you."

"Watch it, Jackie-boy." Alex said pleasantly, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. He gave her a deceivingly friendly wink before heading for the door. "I'll tell Dad you're here."

Jack snorted. "Thanks bunches."

She sighed as she swiped her hair from her face. She needed to cut it soon, it was starting to get long. It hung around her chin, irritating her almost every moment of the day. To short for a pony tail but to long to stay out of her way. Jack groaned Mr. Ralif shut the door and tossed a thick, surprisingly blank packet onto her desk. A quick glance confirmed her fear – it was an essay packet. Mr. Ralif gave her a cheerful smile.

"You said you wanted to write something didn't you? Two hours of Shakespeare, get cook'n." Jack banged her head against the desk in agony. She couldn't understand that prat's wording for anything! Half the time she didn't know what was going on in the play until the end! "That won't help it get done, Jack."

The only sound in the room was the sound of typing and the slow, annoying tick of the clock. When it grew near to the end of the session Mr. Ralif dialed his cell phone, before pointing threateningly towards the clock. Jack still had over half of the packet the fill. In desperation she began bullshiting at a rapid rate, filling the page with large, loopy handwriting that was almost completely alien when compared with what she had started with.

"Hello, Debra? Hi hunny, yeah I'm still at school. Listen, I've got Jack here…yeah again. Hunny I don't-" Mr. Ralif sighed before rubbing his temples. "Jack, Debra says hello."

"Hello, Mrs. Ralif."

"She's say hi back. So I'll be home a little later then normal. Uh huh. Love you too." Jack looked up at him hopefully as he set down the phone.

"Come on Mr. Ralif, obviously you're needed at home. I'll tell you what, I'll can just go on home – nobody needs to know about it." From his desk Mr. Ralif pulled out a bottle of water and a small bottle of aspirin. He downed four before leveling her with a glare. "Fine! Geez, it was just a suggestion."

A half an hour later and the detention was over and somehow, miraculously, Jack had managed to complete the packet. She placed it on his desk with a certain amount of pride and a much larger feeling of dread. She had really, really stretched it on most of the essays.

"Done. Can I go now?" Mr. Ralif glanced at the clock, there was still another five minutes but he nodded with a sigh. Jack danced back to her seat. There was still hope she could beat her father back from his trip up north. If she could get on their land before he did – why, she may just get away with it! Filled with a new hope, Jack nearly shoved her supplies into her backpack. She turned to leave and froze, an uncomfortable feeling filling her instantly when she realized her English teacher was watching her with an evaluating look. Jack willed him not to talk, the conversations she knew he was about to start was one she did not have time for. Apparently her Force powers needed a little tweaking because Mr. Ralif's lips took a deep frown.

"Jack, I know you're home situation is…unique, with the colony and all. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"No, not really." Jack answered quickly, making her way to the door and before throwing the clock another glance. She really, really needed to leave now if she was even remotely going to make it.

"I've noticed at the Parent-teacher conferences your father never seems to be interested in you, only Alex. I've talked with my peers and that doesn't seem to be the norm for Templite girls."

Jack could feel her panic rising as the hand on the clock continued its advance. "My dad really, really likes boys."

"But what about you, Jack?"

Jack stared at her teaching, fighting the urge to snap at him impatiently and flee from the room. What did she have to do? Spell it out for the man? Her father did not like her very much. End of story. "Can I go now?"

Mr. Ralif nodded before pulling on his blazer jacket. "You want a ride home?"

"No thanks, you know they don't like outsiders on the Land. I'll go through the forest, be there in no time." Ralif looked like he was going to argue but Jack waved him off. "Look, I really gotta go. Thanks though."

She ran from the room, nearly jumping down the stairs and carefully stopped herself so she would walk by the glass fronted main office in a gentle, no worry pace before breaking into a full out sprint into the forest. Jack almost screamed when she checked the outside electronic clock. The forest passed in a blur and before she knew it she was leaping over the fences that marked their property. Not for the first time, she thanked God that their Lands were so close to the school. She may actually make it. God, her heart was hammering with that hope. To not see the disappointed look in her father's eyes, to not be hit today!

Her feet stung through the shallow tennis shoes but she didn't relent her sped, yelling a hello to various cousins as she made her way to the main house. She skidded to a stop as she saw the pick up truck in the drive way and for a moment she hovered there, her muscles tense and ready to run. She knew what waited for her inside, Jack knew she had to face it but she couldn't make herself go inside.

Finally, she forced herself onto the front porch and into the kitchen. Her father sat calmly on in his chair, reading the paper.

"You're late, boy."

"I know, Father. I'm really sorry. I got held up at school and-"

"Held up by the black Indian that teaches you." Jack swallowed, her father really didn't like Mr. Ralif - mainly because the teacher had stood up to him - but long before that Ralif had earned her father's ire by simply being a foreigner.

"Um."

"Don't just stand there with your mouth open." The paper snapped shut. "People expect a certain quality of my children, that quality reflects on me. And if you're disrespectful in classes and getting detentions, then that quality goes down. Therefore my quality goes down. And I," He took a sip. "In people eyes am looked down upon. Do you want me to looked at badly?"

Jack stared at her father, slightly confused as to why the coffee cup in his hand hadn't ended up against her head yet. She spoke cautiously, humbly. "No, Father. I never would want that."

"I'll let it slide this time. Lord knows that bastard probably kept you unfairly. Those people have no sense of right or wrong." Her father stood, handing the coffee cup to her mother. Jack tried to keep the joy of her face. She was getting off! Oh thank you, Jesus! "Go spot your brother and cousins in the weight room."

Jack nearly pranced out of the room. She never felt so happy as she did at that moment. She nearly flung the door open to the weight room, giving her startled cousins a cheeky grin. Louis instantly flickered her off from where he was spotting Joseph.

"I had to clean up piles of shit the size of my head because of you." Louis said darkly. Jack patted him on the shoulder.

"At least now you have an excuse for the smell." She said cheerfully, standing behind her brother as he pumped his weight. Joseph broke into snickers as Louis pushed her effortlessly into the weight rack. Jack let out a shout as the weights fell everywhere, barely avoiding getting her foot smacked. She gave him a death glare before returning to her spot behind her brother. She helped Alex wrack the bar and then cheerfully pulled her shirt off. She had, by some miracle, not really hit puberty until last yearn but her breasts seemed to be making it up in a vengeance and her tight, oppressive sports bra was her only defense against her father's wrath.

Alex tossed her one of his spare sweatshirts and Jack joyfully put it on. Not matter what happened, nothing could ruin her day now. She slid onto the bench, waiting until Alex was in position to lift the bar. Jack grunted but repped the heavy bar once before having him pull a few off on each side.

Alex shot her a wicked smile as he did so. "It's okay Jack, one day you'll no longer be such a weakling."

Jack fought the urge to spit at him, with her luck it would probably just hit her in the face. "One day when you're least expecting it I'm going to smoother you."

"Whoops." Alex said cheerfully as he dropped the bar. Jack let out a squeak as she caught it, staring up at him with wide, hateful eyes.

"Not funny, you bastard."

"Sorry, Jackie-boy." Alex said softly as he pulled the bar off and placed it on the bar. Jack stared up at him, not missing the looks Louis and Joseph shot each other. They knew something, Jack realized, that she didn't. Curiosity bit at her, but she knew better then to ask. But damn did she want to. Alex had been treating her so strangely lately and the almost tender look her was giving her now was freaking her out. Alex looked like he was about to say something but shook his head, his hands mirroring her own as she lifted. Sometimes, just sometimes, Jack got the feeling that her brother liked her a lot more then was allowed to with the 'debt' she owed her family.

Jack licked her lips, holding the bar still for a moment while staring up at her brother. She opened her mouth, determined to make a snide comment to kill the suddenly tense air in the room when the sound of a crashing downstairs caught all of our attentions. Louis looked out the window and cursed, yanking his younger brother up.

"Elder Capp's here. We don't want to be here right now." Before she had a chance to register that her grandfather had arrived her cousins were gone. Alex stole the bar from her weakened grip, shelving it as Jack sat up, staring at the open door in blatant confusion. Slowly she turned to look at her brother, only to find him staring at her with that odd look once again. Jack's head snapped back to the doorway as the sound of arguing erupted downstairs.

Her father never fought with her grandfather. Never.

"Jack," Alex moved in front of her, pulling her to standing with sweaty palms. "Listen, I-"

Jack felt her face drain of color when she recognized her full name being screamed downstairs. Jacklyn? Oh hell, she was really starting to panic now. What was going on? She must have done something really bad. She looked at Alex in full blown fear. He stared back at her, his lips pursing. There was thud, a sudden silence and then the sound of someone charging up the stairs. Her father appeared in the doorway seconds later, leaning on the door knob for support as he shook in rage.

"Out, Alex." Her father's voice shook with his anger, his grip on the door knob turning his knuckles white. Alex stood unmoving at her side, his hand tightening almost painfully around her own.

"Dad," Alex's voice was eerily calm and he watched his father with uncertainly, "Where's Grandpa?"

"Alex," Her father was so worked up Jack thought he might have a heart attack. "Leave. Now."

Alex looked uncertain. "Dad, where is-"

What her father said next, he said very calmly. As if he hadn't just killed the patriarch of the colony. "I cut his lying throat."

With a gasp Alex released Jack's hand, racing from the room. Jack stared at her father, watching in horror as he released the door knob, every bone in his hand cracking as he straightened out his fingers. "You! You want to destroy him! Just like you did me."

"No, Father!" Jack backed away from her approaching father. "I don't even know who you're talking about!" She had seconds to register his movement before the he right hooked her with one of the ten pound weights she'd knocked over earlier. The next thing she knew she was lying on the floor, agony painting white lines across her vision as pain radiated from her jaw.

"I won't let you do it to him! I'll protect my son from you! I won't let you ruin him like you ruined me!" Jack let out a scream as he threw the weight against her shoulder. She tried desperately to reason with him as he towered over her.

"I swear, Father, I didn't do it! I swear it!"

"Shut up!" He pinned her injured shoulder down with his foot, the weight digging into the flesh. "Now don't move, you ungrateful little fuck!"

Jack nodded weakly, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. It would only make it worse – it only ever made it worse. She watched as her father disappeared from her view, returning moments later with a large, flat weight in his hand. He raised the weight above his head, swaying slightly with the weight.

"I won't let you ruin him!"

Oh god. This was it.

"Stop it!" Alex. He stood at the doorway, covered in blood and staring at their father in something akin to hatred. Her father stared at him, swaying again under the weight.

"I have to do this." His voice was a soft whisper, almost a caress. "For you. Don't realize what he wanted to do to you?"

"I know all about it father," Alex said coldly, not daring to move from his spot in the doorway. "We talked it out last week."

"But you don't understand-"

"I understand completely." He interrupted, his eyes flicking from Jack's crumpled form back to their father. She had never seen the blonde seem so cold, so…dangerous even. "I have no issues with the arrangement."

Father shook his head, raising the weight above his head, lines forming around his eyes in his rage. "You just don't understand!"

Alex made a move for the weight and Jack rolled quickly away, scrambling to her feat and making a mad dash towards the door. The weight slammed into the ground behind her, shaking the whole room and sending painful vibrations across her jaw. A rough hand grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt and yanked her backwards. Jack let out a gasp as she was released violently, Alex wrestling her away from her father. Jack watched in horror as her father pushed Alex hard enough to send him tumbling into a weight rack, his head hitting the remaining stacked weights and went frighteningly limp, laying like a broken doll.

Oh god. Jack didn't even realize she was screaming her brother's name until her father turned to look at her, her lips snapping shut in fear. Almost in slow motion he charged, lowering his head like a football player. Jack spun to the side, pushing with both hands. And it was like something snapped. When he came after her again he met with a twenty pounder to the head. She swung the flat weight like a baseball bat and it connected with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor and before she knew what was happening she was standing over him, slamming the weight against him again and again.

It was a madness – a seemingly unending haze of anger and hate that Jack didn't even know she possessed. Every beating, every moment of shame and want came out of her like a whirlwind of vengeance. She smashed the weight down with every bit of strength she had, over and over again until her arms ached and her throat burned. She'd been screaming, deep and wild and she hadn't even realized it. Painting Jack dropped the weight from to her side and looked down at her father.

Oh god.

There was so much blood. She stumbled backwards, staring at the slick weight on the ground because she was incapable of looking at her father's crushed skull again. Brain matter and some sort of thick, white ooze covered the practice mats – and then there was all the blood. Blood everywhere. All over her, on her hands, her sweat shirt. Everywhere.

"Jesus." The voice was raspy and weak, Jack's head snapped towards the sound and she felt herself pale even more to find Alex awake, staring at their father with wide eyes. "Jackie, what have you done?"

She backed away from him, "I-"

The look in his eyes as he looked up at her caused her voice to disappear. "Run, Jack. Run the hell away."

"What?"

"Get out of here." Alex struggled to stand, leaning heavily on the weight stand and reached out and grabbed the front of her sweat shirt. Jack nearly fell as he yanked her towards him, ripping the hat off his head and nearly slamming it on her own. He gave her the most serious look she'd ever seen on his face as the palm of his hand rested on the back of her neck. "They'll kill you before the police ever get here. Run Jackie-boy, get the hell out of here."

There was a shrill scream from the doorway. Mother stood there, her fist pressed against her lips as she stared at the bloody mess that had once been her husband. She staggered into the room, falling to her knees by her husband. Her hands clutched her head and she began to rock back and forward, a low keening noise escaping her. Jack felt bile rise for a second time at the sight of her mother's pain. Alex pushed her away sharply and Jack sent him one last fleeting glance before she fled. She should have been exhausted from her earlier run, but Jack found herself running faster then she ever had before. She reached the forest in record time, disappearing deeper and deeper into the wooded area.

Branches tore at her skin and clothing but Jack didn't feel it. Adrenalin pumped through her veins, keeping her sprinting at her top speed for a period of time she honestly never dreamed was possible. The ache of her jaw and shoulder were gone. All she knew was that she had to run. She kept hearing Alex's words repeating through her head, 'Run, Jack.' Jack felt her breath come in wheezing gasps, her legs shaking to such an extent that eventually she fell when she tried to take a step. She laid on the muddy, cold grown and let out a sob. She had killed her own father. How could she claim it was in self-defense not after what she'd - the image of her father's semi-flattened skull flashed through her head and Jack rolled on her side, vomiting whatever had been left in her stomach once more.

Jack wiped her mouth with the back of her hand but recoiled when she realized it was still coated with blood. She ran them desperately against the ground, smearing the mud all over her hands until they were dark brown. She didn't care, she just wanted the blood gone. Jack scrapped at them with leaves but it seemed as if nothing would remove the blood from her hands. Sobs escaped her, strong enough to rack her entire body. Oh god! She had killed her father! She had killed her father! The poor man didn't deserve it, he couldn't control the way he was. He was mentally ill for gods sake! And she'd just gone and –

Jack collapsed over in half, screaming her agony into the ground. Oh god, what had she done!

She stayed like that for a while, but the feel of rain on the back of her neck broke her out of her misery and once again she heard her brother's voice urging her to escape. Jack forced herself to stand up, her legs screaming as she made herself limp into a jog. South is school. West was home. East was town. North was safe. She made a sharp right, her brother's voice echoing in her head. North, she had to run North.

* * *

And there's the first chapter of the remake! I hope you guys enjoy!


	2. Of Flight, Golden Things and Findings

Here we go, next chapter.

* * *

A Girl Named Jack

**Chapter 2**

_Of Flight_

1999 CE - June 25th

Jack stumbled as she made her way through the dense forest, her breath coming out in small, white puffs which confused her. It was barely the end of July, why was it so cold? The sun still shone in the sky, albeit its rays were heavily muted by the canopy. She shuddered, virtually naked underneath the thin high school sweatshirt she wore. She would have thought that the long run she'd just completed would have kept her warm, instead it covered in a cold sweat that made the odd weather even more unbearable.

The sharp wind cut against her, chapping her cheeks and lips to the extent that she pulled the lip of her sweatshirt up to act as a muffler. She forced herself to keep moving forward, keeping her eyes solely on the ground in front of her. It was the only way she could keep herself from staring at the red that stained her person. She had no idea how long she had been walking and frankly she was stunned that they hadn't found her yet; a single mounted searcher should have easily caught up with her by now. Perhaps the police arrived before they had a chance to mount a tracking party. Jack could only hope.

She groaned. The sun was setting; in a few moments it would be gone completely. She was shaking, though if it was from shock or the cold she didn't know. She walked until the woods were filled with a dim twilight and then she stopped. For a moment she felt a strange sensation, as if the ground was moving on without her, the loss of the mechanical action of walking suddenly seeming unnatural. She braced herself against a nearby tree and then allowed herself to slide down onto the forest floor.

Jack was beyond exhausted. Now that she wasn't moving, her jaw seemed to ache more fiercely, her shoulder more stiff then ever. And then there was the numbed exhaustion in her forearms…Jack licked her dry lips and leaned her head against the tree, allowing her eyes to shut. She had only meant to close her eyes, to take a moment and think of some place to go or something to do, but when she awoke several hours later she found it dreadfully cold and pitch black out. She was shivering violently enough to wake and Jack found she couldn't feel her feet or hands. She tugged off her tennis shoes, alternating rubbing one socked foot and then another until they awoke in an explosion of pin pricks.

Jack shoved her feet into her shoes and made to stand – the moon was out and she didn't like the look of the clouds gathering around it. She had to find some place, some shelter to sleep in. There was a sick, crunching sound as she stood and Jack realized in horror that the blood had dried as she slept, cementing the creases of her sweat shirt together. Jack tore the sweatshirt from herself in revulsion, throwing it as far from her as she could. She stared at the crumpled red and grey thing with wide eyes, her bare upper body immediately turning red in the harsh weather. Her breath was coming far to quickly over her chapped lips.

Jack crouched down, wrapping her arms around herself and letting out a dry sob. Oh god, she was going to have to put it back on. The only thing she wanted to do was strip naked and burn all that she had on and yet the freezing wind left her no options. She stayed like that for a while, folded over and holding herself, staring at the frost covered forest floor. Her mind reasoned that there shouldn't be frost on the ground, that something was terribly wrong with the situation, but it was speaking to her so dully, from some part so far in the back of her mind Jack didn't even really registered its complaint at all.

She stayed that way for as long as she could, but the biting wind drove her over to the sweatshirt. She stared at the thing with a dry mouth before reaching out with surprisingly steady hands to pull it back on. A shudder that had nothing to do with the wind wracked her body as she tugged at the ends, forcing it to lie straight on her once more.

Oh god, she thought with a convulsion, she was walking around in his –

She cut herself off. It was cold out and already the clouds had moved further towards the moon, reaching to cut it off silver light in its entirety. She forced herself to walk, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt up over the baseball cap. Jack cursed slightly, Alex had cut out the neck of the sweatshirt a while ago, he hadn't liked how tight it was around his neck, and now there was no way to pull it shut. The wind used the hood as an impromptu tunnel, rushing down her back with each gust. With another loud curse, Jack yanked the hood down. She walked stiffly, glancing around the ever darkening woods for some shelter she could crawl into.

The wind picked up in volume and Jack renewed her efforts, any place she could just crawl into and not be found would do. She desperately needed a place to lay down and check her jaw, Jack couldn't tell if it was broken or not. A streak of lightening lit the sky and there was a cry of thunder that shook the ground she walked on violently. A split second later and heavy sheets of rain fell, drenching her in an instant and pooling on the lip of her hat to form a steady drip in front of her eyes. The wind blew fiercer then before and Jack took to talking to herself to keep moving.

"Jesus," She swore as a lightening bolt stuck a tree within sight to the left. The resulting thunder was so loud that she had actually dropped to the ground, clutching her head. She slowly stood, staring into the darkened woods. "That was close." A split second later and the same thing happened somewhere behind her. Jack threw herself to her knees again, a hand sinking into the freezing mud as she steadied herself. "Shit! What the hell, is someone aiming for me?"

Jack's mouth twisted. Perhaps someone was - she had just committed murder. Her already parched throat somehow became even dryer. She stood suddenly, starting back out blindly in the dark woods at a fervent pace. She was not going to think about it. She couldn't think about it. No, not going to think about it. Jack suddenly found her pace picking up into a jog, pushing branches that scrapped her face away sloppily as she went. Her tennis shoes had become heavy weights as they filled with water and she stumbled more and more, jumping as each lightening bolt lit the sky

She tripped on something and found herself flying face first into the ground. Jack laid still for a moment, breathing heavily as the rain pelted her before closing her eyes and bringing her arms up to hold herself. Jack let out a hiss as she grit her teeth, her jaw erupting into pain. It was a good reminder of her situation though and Jack forced her self to sit up, blinking hard against the small rivers that were falling around her hat and into her eyes. She saw a small, broken log to her left. In a last ditch effort she managed to crawl over and into it. It didn't cover her ankles or feet and rain still found its way into it, but it was enough.

Jack laid awake; terrified of the shaking earth around her, of what tomorrow would bring, of the hunger that was already tearing at her stomach, and of what she had done until she could hold her eyes open no longer.

* * *

_Of Survival_

III 2949 - Hrívë 44th

The first thing Jack was aware of when she awoke that she was no longer shivering, though the cold penetrated her to the bone. For some reason she felt that was not a good thing and so pulled herself from the log. Her shoulder had stiffened overnight until it could no longer be moved and even Jack could tell from a gentle prod with her hands that it was resting slightly higher then her left. Jack had to strip her feet of her shoes and socks and breath new life into her limbs before she could even think of standing and once again Jack found herself taking to herself. The sides of her mouth cracked and burned as she did so, but hearing her own voice was some strange comfort to Jack.

She was terribly thirsty and hunger gnawed at her. Her feet were very pink and Jack decided not to put the socks back on, sticking her bare feet back into the water logged shoes. She tied the socks together and flung them across her shoulder. She didn't know what trench foot was, but her grandfather used to tell her stories about how terrible it was and how he'd gotten it from wet socks. Her heart twisted at the thought of her grandfather. Dead, dead just like Father. Dead by Father's hand. Oh god, she moaned and cradled her head, what could she have possibly done to anger her father so? For him to kill her grandfather was…unthinkable. Was she responsible for his death too? Jack let out a ragged sigh, finding the energy to cry completely gone.

Jack forced herself to her feet and moved forward. It was strange, she could barely feel the ground, her feet hardly registered each step yet her jaw did. It ached with every jostle and shake of her body. But Jack cared on, fearful of anyone who could be following. She didn't think Alex would betray her, but still she fled further on. It rained again. Cold, thick rain that was on the verge of turning to sleet. Rain that worried Jack greatly. With a little rest, she was capable of thinking on how extremely strange the weather was. She highly doubted she'd managed to get so far north for this kind of drastic weather change.

She tucked the socks underneath the sweatshirt, though there was little hope in keeping them dry. Her mouth felt like it was glued together and she'd stop taking to herself, the action making her mouth hurt something awful and reminding her with each word how thirsty and hungry she was. Finding water became a driving force in Jack's mind as she carried on and she thought of little that didn't involve it. Could she hear a stream? What had she ever heard about the northern woodlands that could tell her where she was and where water could be. As the second day drew to an end, Jack had still not come across a stream. In desperation she kneeled in front of a large, muddy puddle and with a hesitant hand, scooped it to her mouth.

She spit out instantly but she found her tongue retreating to its normal size with brief return of moisture. Jack was so cold, though it had become such a constant it barely became a conscious thought. Jack worried about it though - she knew she had to find a way to dry her clothes or she wouldn't last long. The rain had stopped and Jack slept the night away tucked underneath a tree and its fallen counterpart.

The morning brought a thirst in such force that Jack found another puddle and ignoring the taste, drank as much as she could. It was amazing how much better she could think once she had drank her full. She sat cross legged in front of the puddle and vowed to find a running creek – her father had always told her that drinking from still water was dangerous. Her father –

No. Jack stopped the thought and climbed to her feet, trudging forward once again. Now that she had quenched her thirst, even if only temporarily, that left the hunger and the cold. When night fell again, Jack still hadn't found anything to eat and the hunger was overwhelming. She knew nothing about plants and that made the option of eating stuff from the ground seem even less appealing to her. Jack walked until she dropped in exhaustion and slept in the open on the soggy ground. She was so hungry that she had almost stopped feeling it. Almost. She knew she had to find food and soon, she didn't know how long a human could last without food. She took comfort in knowing that a human being could live much longer without food then water, but that didn't sate the ever present, all consuming hunger.

The next morning, Jack found that the tips of her toes had turned blue. Terrified, she rubbed them for as long as she dared, breathing on them to heat them, only to find that her breath contained far less warmth then she thought it would. The socks were sort of dry and she put them on, only to pull them off again, hanging them and the sneakers by their bowed strings from a tree branch. Her sweatshirt followed suit and Jack stood bare to the elements, freezing and hungry.

Jack had to dry the clothes though – they were still too damp – and she knew that frostbite was a real danger for her. Her pants hung on her like a second skin, crusty and damp and caked in blood and mud but she didn't dare take it off. The cold was already too strong.

"I'm going to die out here." Jack muttered staring at the blood stained clothing that hung from the trees. The realization was like a lead weight in her chest and she crouched, holding her front in an attempt to keep the wind from raking across her in its entirety and quietly she sobbed tearless sobs, wondering if she even deserved to live and if it wouldn't be better to go back and let herself be captured.

But that would lead to death too. In any direction, Jack was trapped. But she was so hungry. So very, very hungry. With a strange determination, Jack scouted the area around her clothing, looking for anything she could find editable. To her chagrined, she found no nuts or berries and it was still so dreadfully cold. After a moment of consideration Jack approached a tree and pulled a chunk of its bark off and with a lick of her lips, forced herself to eat it.

Her body rejected it in her throat and after a moment heavy breathing, Jack swallowed and forced herself to eat a second piece. She had never heard of tree bark being poison and she had no other choice. She managed to get another few small pieces down before she retreated to a nearby puddle, and after a short endeavor to pick the debris from it (and giving up) she drank from it. It took the curve off her hunger and for Jack that was enough and she retreated back to her clothing.

The sweatshirt was still wet but Jack put it on again. It felt like it had been forever and she was afraid to leave it off any longer. The socks were freezing but slightly dryer and after wiping her feet the best she could on her pant bottoms Jack pulled them and the sneakers on. Jack seriously considered going back – surely they would feed her before they toted her off to jail and even if her cousins found her first, they would kill her quickly and the hunger would be gone. It almost seemed like a fair idea until she remembered the look on her mother's face, and then Jack found herself retreating further into the forest.

She'd rather die out here then ever see that look on her mother's face again.

Once again, Jack slept underneath the sky with nothing but a few strips of bark she'd forced down to tide her hunger until morning. The morning brought mushrooms – less then ten feet from where she had slept no less. Small, dark brown things without any bright colors or spots and Jack ate them greedily. She had read somewhere that colorful or spotted mushrooms were deadly and plain ones were not. There was six and all, barely the size of her thumb but Jack inhaled them and vowed to look out for more.

Morning also brought an unwelcoming change as well. The ground became more and more hilly and Jack found herself having to take breaks more often as she climbed a steady incline. The night was falling when she heard something that made her stood completely still. The soft trickle of water. She broke into a run – a limp actually as her feet hurt something awful – and rounded a tall mud bank to find a small creek, barely three feet wide. Jack charged it, sinking to her knees in front of it and drinking greedily from its clear water. It was so cold and it made her even colder as she drank yet Jack drank until she felt sick and without warning vomited heavily into the stream, bringing up the bark and the mushrooms.

And it was then, as she was watching her vomit being carried downstream, that a strange and rather alarming thought struck Jack. She hadn't had to use the restroom once since she had entered the woods. Terrified, she fled into the woods and peeled her pants from her legs, pushing until a small, strangely colored stream of urine escaped her. Staring in shock at the place she'd urinated, Jack yanked her pants up and with a cry of "Fuck!" stumbled back to the stream and forced herself to drink more. She kneeled in front of it and cried again, thick, slow tears falling for the first time in days.

Jack was very, very scared.

"Fucked! Oh _god_ I am fucked! What the hell happened to nature's bounty?" Jack shouted into the empty clearing, whimpering as she brought her arms to wrap once more around herself. She was so hungry, so cold…she didn't dare look at her feet – the blue tint to them scared her too much. She sobbed into her hands and feel asleep next to the stream again, sleeping in a strange vertical fetal position the tucked her feet, hands and face against her body and the hard ground.

Sunlight brought a shock to Jack. The creek had a shallow, yet wide bank that was devoid of trees and for the first time in days Jack had an unobstructed view of the sun. She stared at it and closed her eyes, imagining the warmth it must surely be imprinting on her. When she opened her eyes and turned to sip from the stream she almost recoiled from her reflection before she recognized it as her own. It was distorted by the rapidly moving current, yet the image it shown brought Jack's brows together in confusion. She hardly recognized the girl staring back at her.

Somehow, she'd already lost weight in her face and it looked gaunt and strangely pale under the summer work tan that layered her body. Jack let out a strained gasp as she realized she had blood spread across her mouth and cheeks. She sunk her hands into the water violently and brought the freezing water to her face. Jack scrubbed as hard as she could, scrapping with her fingernails until her face stung and when she finally stopped, her face and hands were clean of the mud and blood that had coated them.

The panic in her breast died and she cradled her head in her hands. Oh god, oh god. Father, father! She cried again, dry wretches that shook her and strangely brought heat to her frozen body. When she stopped, Jack stood, determined to walk up and down the creek until she could feel her feet again. And then she got her second shock of the day. A little further up from where the small creek flowed, a house – well it looked like some sort of house – of stone sat. She approached it without any hesitation, her hunger and fear of the cold leaving her reservations about capture behind her.

Perhaps whoever lived there had food and a heater – oh god! To put her feet against a heater until it burned her skin! But as she grew closer, Jack felt her hopes disappear. It was clear that the little house had been abandoned for a long time. Its exterior was overgrown and to Jack's dismay, it either had an earthen floor or the forest had reclaimed it. It had gaping windows without glass and from what she could tell after a careful investigation – had never had glass - and a single door of some dark wood that refused to close. But it had a roof, at least partially. More then half of the wooden timber roof still stood, with a few holes here and there and one gaping one that provided enough light for a small tree to stretch up towards it.

But it was a house and it had a barren hearth with a short chimney, made of the same stone that the walls were and Jack knew if she was to have any hopes of surviving it would be here. The ground was damp, though dryer in the roofed parts then anything she could find outside. With a renewed purpose Jack found herself searching for anything dry, something she could make a fire with. In the end, Jack had gathered a series of sticks and moss and piled them in the driest corner she could find, hoping they would dry and she could use them. Yet Jack had no idea of how to make a fire without some sort of starter. The search had also brought more mushrooms, a handful that Jack ate greedily and still not satisfied, she forced herself to down more bark.

She spent the night in the small house, watching the moonlight play through the holes in the roof and trying to think of how to start a fire. The only thing Jack could think of was rubbing two sticks together but surely that didn't really work and she fell asleep uneasily. The seventh day found Jack stock piling things in her little house. Dry wood and moss mostly, as Jack found she could not bear to not eat any mushrooms she found in the area around the stream – even when she told herself she should save some. She spent the majority of the day rubbing two sticks together on the hearth, desperately hoping to somehow start a fire.

Jack gave up when the sun was full over head and leaning towards the west. Jack stood, her body stiff from the cold and crouching over and decided to do something about the door. She managed to bring it a third of the way close and then in a moment of brilliance she stock piled wood against it's small opening, forming a barrier that surely would keep any animals out.

Jack hadn't given bears much thought, but she knew they were around and that it had been a rough summer for them…even if it was now for some reason winter. Supposedly there were still some wild cat in the area as well, but Jack didn't really believe in that. But still, perhaps more to have something to do besides think on the grinding hunger and the ever growing colder days and nights, Jack found herself fortifying her little house. She used mud and moss and sticks to close up the window and began entering the little house through a small hole in the side of one of the walls.

When night had fallen, her feverish efforts had won her a partially enclosed home – Jack couldn't figure out how to get to the hole in the roof, it was much too tall for her to reach – yet still no fire. And Jack knew she would not survive without one, though if she didn't find a decent source of food that wouldn't matter. It was on the eighth day, after a small meal of mushrooms that were far enough down stream that Jack started to worry if the area's population could support her needs, that she started noticing things about the little house.

Like how beautiful it was. The day was particularly sunny and warm enough that Jack had dared to strip her pants and shoes as she searched for food in her underwear and sweatshirt, leaving the articles of clothing spread out in front of the house to dry to what they could. She had come back after a disappointing meal of mushrooms (Jack had to search hard to find them and in the end had only come up with three) and had dressed and stood, admiring it in the sunlight.

How could she not have noticed it before? Was the cold so biting, the hunger so all present that she could not see the grace, the very beauty and art that was breathed into every detail of it? Even as decrepit as it was, Jack could see that it was once beautiful – perhaps stunning even. There was a small statue by the front door that she had somehow missed, of a woman holding a large, deep circle plate. A little work and Jack had managed to clean the vines and moss from her.

She was beautiful. Jack sat in front of her and stared at her, eye to eye and wept, somehow moved by her. That statue seemed so sad – to think someone had just gone and left her here. Jack cleaned her the best she could. She felt a strange kinship with the statue and sat long before her, gazing up at her weather beaten face. The entire house was filled with detail, some sharp as if they were carved a few days ago, others faded and worn to the point she could only guess their shape by feeling them. She couldn't help but wonder who had made this place. Perhaps some sort of hippy artist who had fled the modern world to indulge his art.

Jack wondered where they was now and why they had left such amazing work. How they would feel if he knew there was a seventeen year old fighting to stay alive inside its walls, caressing their carvings and wondering if it would be the last thing she ever saw. Jack spent most of the rest of the day working on the fire, only to give up in the coldness of evening, thinking of her feet, which she hadn't dared look at once she had removed her shoes until they were covered in mud.

Jack laid below one of the openings, thinking of the cold and how she hadn't used the restroom in days and of the merger vegetable sandwiches she used to eat and hate on the farm and what she would do to get one when she noticed something very, very odd.

The moon was different.

She didn't mean like it was red or orange or completely new, she meant it was _different_. Jack spent so many nights of staring up at the moon out in the fields that she was almost positive. There were craters in the wrong places, seas far too north and east then they'd ever been. Then Jack found she didn't recognize a single star in the sky. Not one. She hyperventilated, sitting up on her hands, eyes wide, trying to find the Big Dipper, something – anything – she recognized. Unable to she fled from the opening, pressing herself against the barren hearth and sobbing as she held herself and slipped – as ever – hungry and cold into sleep, wondering if she would awake in the morning.

The ninth day brought snow. Jack woke so cold that she could not close her hands. She stared at the small hole in the stonework she had been using as a door mutely, staring at the snow that was still falling – thick, heavy flakes that Jack knew from experience meant trouble – and then mutely turned to watch the flakes drifting through the holes in the roof. She curled into her body, holding herself the best she could and closed her eyes. She could not bear to look at the empty hearth or the firewood she had stacked up near it. She had no energy to cry; she couldn't even feel the hunger that she knew was there or even to bring herself to worry about her feet.

Jack willed herself to sleep and to what undoubtedly would come afterwards. She was tired of the hunger. She was tired of the cold. She just wanted to sleep.

* * *

_Of Hunts  
_

1999 CE - June 27th

The light reeked havoc with his migraine. Alex sat quietly on the back of the horse he was riding. His mouth was dry with the grief he still felt. The two men who had meant the most to him were dead and his mother locked in the mental ward of the local hospital two towns over. Yet he felt nothing solid any more. He watched as the men of the Colony rode around him, angry and worked to a fury.

Alex forced his hands to release the painful grip on the reigns. Why should the poor horse suffer from this stupidity as well? Alex was quiet as they screamed injustice around him. He was silent as they spoke of stringing his sister up before the police could come. They were all too moved by the way his father had died. They left him to his silence, believing that seeing his father's brains bashed out – Alex winced mentally at the harsh word choice – has shocked his voice away.

But Alex knew things the group did not. He wasn't blind – his father hated Jack. He had hurt her a thousand times in the past. So he didn't hate her. Didn't want her dead. She was after all to be his bride.

But that was another thing he told no one. Those who knew rode on either side of him, white as sheets and both locked into silence. Louis and Joseph had been his playmates since his arrival. They were his first cousins and as such, were expected to be his right and left hands. He would inherit most of the lands – and the Farming contracts that controlled most of the families that lived there. His marriage to Jack and the child that it would conceive was to cement his power.

Alex's father had always told him he would need them to keep order on the Colony. He needed them now for a completely different reason.

He was torn, torn for his feelings for Jack and the loyalty he felt for his father. The same father that had beaten Jack senseless in the past had always been kind to him. Jacob Templite had taken him out of the hell hole that was the orphanage. A part of him knew his silence to his father's action had been a way of lying to himself, keeping the joy of finally having a family alive. A soft hand clasped his shoulder causing him to jump out of surprise. Louis watched him calmly as Joseph's hand landed on his other shoulder. They knew everything. They knew that he did not want to be here. That he had volunteered because it was expected.

"Don't worry, Alex." Louis' voice was the most subdued he'd ever heard before. "We'll find her."

"She can't run forever." Joseph said loudly before lowering his voice. "Before they do. You don't want her dead, then she ain't gonna die."

Alex nodded.

"I know." He said quietly and they pulled their hands from him. "When we get a chance, break away from the group."

"Alexander." He glanced up to find his Uncle riding towards him. "We are going to find her. And when we do, we'll string that bitch up by the neck. Been nothing but a menace since the start. I…understand you will be inheriting everything. I ain't go no calms with that. But you're going to need experience now that your Elders are gone. I can fill that gap for you."

"That's mighty kind of you, Dad," Louis said with a smile. "I'm sure Alex will need you."

"Of course he will." Joseph said as he leaned forward in his saddle, a sharkish smirk on his lips. "I expect you'll be making quite a few visits to the big house."

Hollow words. Dell was in ill favor with the Colony after his eldest's debauchery, Alex couldn't associate with him. Only Louis and Joseph where spared their father's fate by their mother's family. He'd lost control over his sons a long time ago and Dell knew it. Their loyalty belonged to Alex and when Dell rode to the head of the party, his back was straight with rage. His grandpa's death was about to bring about a wild change in the power hierarchy of the Colony.

The old guard would be processed out and only those who Alex could stand would remain.

Alex glanced towards the tree-rimmed sky as the wind howled, the trees shook and the wood echo with creaks and moans. The wind tore at Alex's clothing, the hot edge of it shooting across the back of his neck and lifting his shaggy hair slightly. A strange feeling knotted itself in his stomach and as he watched the trees sway.

Run, run Jackie-boy. We're coming for you.

* * *

_Of Golden Things_

When she awoke, she found herself incredibly warm and comfortable. So comfortable Jack was hesitant to arise to consciousness. But there was this pull – this insistence that she awake so she yawned and stretched lazily. She stood, yawning again, pleased to find that the hunger and cold and thirst was gone. She itched her head and looked around, wiping the drool from the side of her mouth as she brought her hand down. She stared at the image before her and blinked, then once more before bringing her fingers to wipe her eyes fiercely. But when she brought them down Jack found the image the same and she cursed something fierce.

"God damn't." She finished with a heavy sigh, "I must be dead."

The sky was an impossible blue, the blue that you only ever found or thought of as a child, without a single cloud in the sky. Tall, waist length green grass filled the area in a plain that seemingly never ended. No matter which way she turned it seemed to Jack that it went on forever. Yet the pull was insistent and Jack found her feet moving. She didn't know how long she walked until she first saw it. At first, it was like a shadow on the horizon, but as she drew close she saw it was really a great tree, the only thing that stood against the horizon.

Jack found herself running towards it's with a fleetness she could never imagine and she stood before the mighty tree before she could blink. She stared up its great trunk to its towering foliage, her mouth hanging open. She could never imagined that a living thing could be so large. There was a rustling from it and Jack jumped back, fear blooming in her breast as man dropped from it, somehow landing easily on his feet as if he had not fallen from a giant height.

He stared at her, with eyes so green they somehow burned into her mind. They were so green they seemed almost to glow, like the color you found when you stared up at the sun through the bottom of a leaf. When he spoke, Jack found herself shuddering to such an extent that she collapsed flat on her butt, her hands resting in the grass as she stared at him, somehow grossly, perfectly framed between her legs.

He was speaking again but Jack's mind could not handle it, shutting down even as his voice echoed in it. All she could feel was vibration and the sting in her mind. Then cool hands on her heated cheeks and gentle lips on her forehead and suddenly everything spun back into focus and Jack felt slightly drunk. As she stared up at the impossibly handsome man before her, Jack found herself grinning like an idiot – even when he stared down at her with a look of seriousness.

"Accept me." For some reason his words made sense to her now, and the echo and overwhelming quality of them faded. The man held her chin between his hands. "_I_ have found you. Child of a land that is not my own, accept me and you will live." That set off alarms in the back of Jack's oh so foggy mind and she found herself staring at him with slightly sharper eyes. "Don't you want to survive? Child of foreign earth?"

Jack opened her mouth to answer but found she had no voice. Vaguely, she was aware that something moving towards her from each side at a fiercely quick pace. The one on her left was accompanied by a violent storm that tore across the blue sky and scared Jack dearly, while the one on the right seemed to spread a plague of brown grass as it moved. Jack nodded, unable to find her voice, and reached for him as a toddler might. The man let out an endearing laugh and the feel of his arms around her shoulders banished Jack's fear and discomfort.

"Then you are mine," The man cooed down to her in a sing song voice and Jack felt insanely satisfied with herself that she had pleased him. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the great tree's trunk. He held her hand in his own, whispering in her ear as he pressed it against the weathered bark. "Do not fear."

And so Jack didn't.

The air around her was shifting, the man melting into the plain before everything shifted and changed. Jack swung around in alarm as the scenery changed, morphing until everything was filled with a golden light. Jack herself stood before a great tree, somehow less great then the tree she had been before in the land of blue and green and yet much more breathtaking. The tree, with a golden trunk split in two and wrapped around itself had huge dew laden golden flowers, green leaves edged with gold. It seemingly vibrated as Jack stood before it. Golden light emitted from it, weaving around her in waves. She stared up at it, her mouth dropping open and feeling her bodily functions leaving her in a whoosh. She was aware that she had wet herself, but Jack found no embarrassment as she stared up in rapture.

It was somehow, someway, the most beautiful, stunning thing Jack had ever seen. More entrancing, more demanding then the man with the green eyes. It was screaming at her, begging her to touch it - demanding that she give herself to it.

"Choose me!" It screamed, its voice somehow inside both her head and chest at the same time, "I am Laurelin! I am all that was once glorious and will be again! Come to me and I will give you valor and strength and such fame that it would make a man scream! Come to me child, give me life and I shall give you all!"

Jack moved towards it, nearly tripping up the mound that the tree was mounted upon in the hurry to reach it. But just as her hand was to touch it, she pulled back, some warning reigning in the back of her mind. And then she heard it. She heard _him_, the second voice.

"Stray from her. Come to me, I am Telperion the elder. Come to me child, I will give you wisdom, I will give you knowledge of all that has come and could have been. Come to me, I will give you the very meaning of the days, I will give you love and protection…come…come…come…"

Jack froze, staring at the silver, somewhat muted tree that grew to the left of the golden one. It was thinner, more elegant then the golden tree before him. Jack pulled her hand further from the golden tree, leaning forward and squinting hard to see the silver tree through the golden light. She realized it was giving off its own light but she could hardly see it. Jack took a step away from the golden tree.

There was something golden amongst its silver light and leaves. A man…standing with his back to her and his palms pressed against its trunk. His hair was as golden as the tree she stood before and stood in sharp contrast against the silver tree. Something inside Jack shifted and she found her feet stumbling towards the edge of the mound of the golden tree her eyes unmoving from the bent form – an undeniable curiosity filling her. She called out to it, watching in delight as the golden form turned –

The golden tree let out such a shriek of grief that Jack found herself screaming, her hands clasped against her ears in defense. She fell to her knees, crawling back to the tree on all fours, begging it to be silent. Jack wrapped her arms as far around it as she could, pressing her face against its smooth bark as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry!" She croaked out, "I'm sorry! Please! I won't go over there again!"

The shrieking stopped abruptly and Jack barely had time to catch her breath before a strange, burning hot feeling filled her and ripped another tortured scream from her throat. She fell from the tree, clutching at her eyes as she convulsed before it.

* * *

_Of Finding_

III 2949 - Hrívë 52nd

Rinvil let out a deep groan as Estel tried and failed, once again, to guess the healing conception Elladan had offered him. By his twin's side, Elrohir was laughing merrily at it all.

"Well," Estel said gruffly, his teenage voice reaching a low level that would have been impossible just a few years earlier, "If it's not Eastern Mug and Green Root what is it?"

The elder of the twins smirked into his tea before answering. "Elladan had me urinate into the flask and then added some Green Root to it."

The young human sputtered before dropping the leather cow flask from his hand. Rinvil chuckled, watching as the younger twin Elladan shook his head, throwing his brother a reproachful look even as his own lips twisted in a smile.

"What ever is wrong, Estel?" Elrohir taunted with a laugh, "You look a little green."

Elladan chuckled softly as he stirred the fire. "Be calm little brother, it is Eastern Mug and Green Root. Elrohir simply seeks to be an ass."

The young human shook his head before hurling the flask at Elrohir with a shout of "Do not tease me like that!"

Elrohir laughed merrily and gave the boy a good natured back slap. "You spend much too much time with Father and Tutor. You need to be taught a sense of humor!" The light hearted twin pulled a face, "How will you ever fit with you own kind if you learn not to joke?" The stormy look upon Estel's face was not missed by anyone. Elrohir immediately moved to release the mood. "Come now Estel! You could end up like Elladan."

The quieter twin's face was placid and un-amused as he stared at the group and Rinvil could not help but join in, elbowing Estel cheekily. "You should not tease him so. He can not help his inexperience."

It seemed his aid was not appreciated and Estel shoved him roughly off the log they were sharing. The movement caused Rinvil to lose hold of the rather intricate braid he was attempting himself and his blondish-white hair fell loose around him, and he let out a forlorn sigh. He threw a weary look at the teenager. "I do not understand why you are so hostile, Estel. Truly, when did you get so violent?"

"Hush," Elladan scolded as he moved to pick up the loose braid and finish it. "You are barely out of babe-hood yourself. You have not even reached your first Yéni."

Rinvil crossed his arms in distaste, glaring at the now smirking Estel. "I am a hundred and seven thank you very much."

"And unmarried!" Elrohir shook his head. "I know only a handful of ellon who are not married by sixty." The dark haired lord sent him a wearily glance. "You are quite a strange one, my dear guard."

The blonde guard started, sputtering and earning himself a reprimanding pinch from Elladan. "I beg your pardon!"

Elrohir moved to remark but was silenced by the authoritative voice of his captain. Glorfindel emerged from the forest, a string of hares strapped to the side of his horse. He was an imposing figure and the intensity of his sharp gaze made the merry twin stiffen.

"Last time I checked all around this fire stood firmly in bachelorhood." Glorfindel dismounted and tossed the hares at Elrohir. "Yourself included."

The dark haired elf caught it with a cheeky grin. "Then I suppose we are all quite bizarre!"

"What troubles you milord?" Elladan asked softly from behind him. Rinvil glanced up at him but Elladan pushed his head fiercely forward. "Stop fidgeting."

The young guard looked at his captain with a slight frown. He had little memories the golden lord without his grim face but even as he stared at him now, Rinvil realized that the elder elf was disturbed. Glorfindel shook his head, seating himself heavily on to the ground. He stared into the fire, his mouth a harsh line. Glorfindel was a handsome man despite his sour disposition and Rinvil could not help but wonder why he had not settled down. It was true – his kind rarely waited so long to marry and those that did were almost always considered odd.

Rinvil had no one he wished to be betrothed to and he had not family to bother him into seeking one. Instead he busied himself with the practices of an elven guard – as did the twins. However, they were given leniency because of their history but Rinvil's person was viewed as 'quite off.' He had stared at his captain to long and Rinvil felt his mouth go dry as the silver eyes turned to evaluate him. When he had first started the guard at Rivendell they had warned him not to look into the captain's eyes and had made this mistake only one other time. He felt trapped and a strange panic was blossoming in his chest. There was a sharp pain on the back of his head as Elladan tugged and the stare was broken.

From across the fire Elrohir snorted. "Can you at least try to restrain yourself from fawning all over my uncle? At least in my presence."

Rinvil stared at him with narrowed eyes. "I am not fawning!"

"Of course not," Estel snorted, "Your love of our Captain is too great to be simple fawning."

Rinvil choked slightly before throwing a nearby stick at him. "Be silent!"

Elrohir fluttered his eyelashes dramatically before addressing the camp in a falsetto voice; "I know, I know! I respect Lord Glorfindel because of his nobility and strength! Oh! If I could have eternity to serve under him, I would learn naught all!"

"I don't sound like that!" Rinvil snapped angrily.

"Sure you don't." Estel said with a chuckle.

"Did you dream, Uncle?" Elladan asked quietly as he stepped away from Rinvil and sat himself besides the captain. Trust Elladan to get to the heart of the issue – no finger wagging or tip toeing about. When he wanted to know something, the usually reserved twin could be brutal. Glorfindel did not acknowledge him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"A memory?" Elrohir had stopped skinning the hares and Estel had gone still from where he sat. Even Rinvil found his curiosity stoked. Glorfindel was a rare elf, one who had been brought back many times. He remembered things that where spoken about in the great halls as if they happened only yesterday.

"No."

And he did not speak that night again.

Daybreak found them already packed and ready to mount, but they did not move on. They had awakened to find Glorfindel missing and they knew not where or why. So they waited. They unpacked their provisions and ate a meager lunch, each not trying to speak their unease. As they day drew on they unpacked completely. The sun was low in the sky when the golden captain stepped from the woods, a bundle in his arms that made Elrohir drop the piece of coney he was roasting into the fire. It was a human, wrapped tightly in Glorfindel's cloak. Rinvil stared with an open mouth, the meat forgotten in his hands, as their captain crossed their small clearing.

He stood before Elladan, leveling the healer with his silver eyes, before offering the bundle. "What can you make of her?"

"Where did you find that?" Elrohir asked, breaking the tense silence.

"That is not important." The Captain said, laying the human on the forest floor. "Estel, find the fur you were bringing for your father."

Elladan pulled the cloak from the girl's frame and Rinvil gasped, the meat dropping from his hands. She was indeed a girl, thin and young and covered in blood. Elladan put a pot to boil on the fire and then ordered Elrohir to start another and handed him a smaller pot which he filled with one of his concoctions to place on it.

"Rinvil, bring me you spare shirt – you still have a clean one do you not? Good, Estel bring me your woolen leggings." With the cold tenderness of a healer Elladan stripped the red hat from the girl's forehead, exposing a dirty mass of short black hair and tossed it to the side. The rest of her clothes followed suit. Rinvil tried to help dress her, his hands far less effective at it then Elladan's and he soon found himself shoed away, the healer completing the job easily. He crouched next to his captain, exchanging a bewildered glance with Estel as Elrohir stirred the fire to life behind them.

He could see that something was wrong with her shoulder even without seeing the angry bruise there and he winced in sympathy as Elladan reset it, the girl reeling in agony beneath them. She did not awake – at least Rinvil did not think she did. It was hard to tell, her eyes were swollen shut and he would not have been able to tell if she opened them.

"She has badly jolted her jaw, though it is not broken." Elladan said quietly as he leaned onto his heels. "I can not see a source for the blood, I can only conclude that it has not come for her."

"You think she killed someone?" Estel asked breathlessly, staring at the sleeping girl.

"That is not what he said." Elrohir said sharply as he brought over the boiling water and small pot over.

"Estel," Elladan pointing towards his pack, "Bring the Athelas and make a paste. You must keep it thick, not to much water."

The teenager sulked away, appropriately cowed, well aware that he had been banished from the adult side of the conversation. Elladan dipped his bandages into the small pot and dabbed at the swollen eyes carefully.

"They have been burned." The healer said softly, looking at his brother. The twins exchanged a look and Elrohir's mouth pulled to thin a line. When he spoke, the usually merry twin's voice was of a tone hardly heard.

"She will not see again?"

"No," Elladan lifted the girl's head and began wrapping the soaked bandages around it. "She will not see again."

Rinvil shifted nervously. Glorfindel stood, still as stone next to him, and the air around the twins was one of grief. It was the same with their mother, she had lost her vision in a similar fashion and Rinvil felt quite suddenly like an intruder and he cleared his throat, focusing on the blue-grey feet.

He pointed towards them, keeping his eyes averted from the twins. "Her feet are like ice."

Elladan nodded. "I can save them, though the last few toes on the right must be amputated. I do not have the tools here to remove them; we will have to make haste for home. We can ill afford infection to set in."

"How long has she been exposed to the elements?" Elrohir directed the question to their captain and Rinvil stood with him, watching Glorfindel expectantly. "Where did you find her? Was she alone?"

The captain said nothing.

Elrohir gasped his shoulder lightly, "Uncle?"

"I found her in deep in the wood, in one of the abandoned hunt houses. I know not how she got there, nor how long she has slept." Much to the frustration of everyone present, he said nothing more.

* * *

**Mini-Appendix I:**

**Dating **– On earth, it was still summer – July 25th. When Jack walks through the Veil of the Worlds, she walks into a different season. So, on Earth it is July 25th, 1999 on Middle-Earth it is the year 2949. The month depends on the calendar in use.

_Gregorian (our) calendar:_ January 3rd

_Shire Calendar:_ 12 Afteryule

_Reckoning of Rivendell:_ 44 Hrívë

_Stewards' Reckoning (Gondor):_ 12 Narvinyë

**Yéni – **It's 144 years, elves like to count in 6 and 12 for some reason (12x12 is 144) and use a Yéni as a time unit.

Another thing you may have noticed is the twins calling Glorfindel Uncle, there are various reasons for this, but for now it's basically because of how close he is with their father.

* * *

End of chapter 2, let me know how you think! I really wanna know!


	3. Of Waking, Incomprehension and Outcasts

If you want you can skip down to the **BOLD**, which is the only important part of this AN.

Several people have asked me why I'm rewriting this story, when I still haven't finished the sequel. Well, I love Jack, even with the other stories I write on my other pen name, she remains in a very special part of my heart. But my writing style changed and I simply didn't know if I could continue the story as it was. There were many plot holes (I did begin writing it when I was thirteen) and other issues in it that I couldn't ignore.

_And yes, Jack was a bit of a Mary Sue when I wrote her._ I felt then and I still do now, that the Sue is a natural part of writing. This is my attempt to make this story less of a Mary Sue and I will strive to the best of my abilities.

Also, as the mythology and history behind the story is very important to me, you may see concepts, names, and other things that aren't verbally explained in the story. Check the bottom of the chapter for brief explanations or ask me to clarify in a review.

**Please READ: (I don't want to repeat myself here)**

Glorfindel: We know for sure that Tolkien decided that he is the reincarnated elf Glorfindel, Chief of the House of the Golden Flowers in Gondolin. He perished when the city fell, one of the few elves to ever defeat a Balrog.

I took this from the Encyclopedia of Arda on one of their summaries of Tolkien's personal notes:

Tolkien was far from happy with this state of affairs, however, and it seems that he intended to reconcile the problem by uniting the two strands of the story. In summary, the notes tell us that Glorfindel's spirit returned to the Halls of Waiting, but was after a time re-embodied by the Valar. He then returned to Middle-earth (either in the mid-Second Age, or as a companion of the Istari in the Third). For the full story of his return, refer to The Peoples of Middle-earth.

For my story, Glorfindel is "re-embodied" three different times. The thing is Tolkien'stimeline really doesn't play well with this idea. Check out below:

(I – denotes First Age, II – denotes Second Age, III – Third Age)

~ I 445 – Ereinion (Gil-Galad) was born

~ I 510 – Fall of Gondolin, Glorfindel was killed.

~ II 3441 – The Last Alliance, Gil-Galad was killed.

~ III 1974 – Battle of Fornost, The first time that Glorfindel is mentioned, so we can assume he returned from the West before this time. I'm going to go ahead and say he's at least a Yéni here, so at least 144. If that's true, then he'd been born about III 1830. So by the time this story is taking place he will be around 1,119. Still, he's a baby compared to Elrond who was born somewhere in the first age.

So the dates really, really don't work out. Blame it on my thirteen year old self. Woo, go me. Basically, I'm making Gil-Galad's birth a hundred years later. So,

~ I 510 – Fall of Gondolin, Glorfindel was killed.

~ I 545 – Ereinion (Gil-Galad) was born.

Since this story is fanfiction and as such is automatically no longer canon (though I strive to keep it so whenever possible) I don't want to hear about it in reviews.

And…that was an incredibly long AN. Sorry. On to the story.

* * *

A Girl Named Jack

**Chapter 3**

_Of Waking_

III 2949 - Hrívë 55th

The enclosed platform was crowded with nine bodies, their tenth and captain was absent. Glorfindel had left them once they'd encountered the second guard party, riding ahead to Imladris. He'd given no reason. But then again Glorfindel wasn't one who often did. He had left the girl with them. The enclosure was filled with an unwelcome heat that kept even the cold of the snow storm at bay.

The elves, much to Estel's annoyance, did not notice it even in their thin linens. As the only man in the group and clad in thick wool, Estel was burning up. He glared bitterly as the elder guardsmen erupted into laughter at one of Fëalin's impossible stories.

"What?" The blonde elf demanded. "Why do you not believe me? I tell you she wish to make me her Lord!"

Next to him, Balewath snorted into his flask. "The only thing Lady Tauredhiel wanted you to do was leave her alone so she could dance with the Captain."

Fëalin was greatly affronted. "I'll have you know that I've stolen many an elleth from underneath Glorfindel's nose!"

"Ah, but will you speak the same when he is among us, dear cousin?" Mitharan's eyes twinkled merrily as he watched his reddening kin. "I think not."

Estel smirked as he shifted his cloak once again. It felt stifling against his back and he knew it would be equally so against his chest, but there wasn't anywhere else to place it. The only open space was currently occupied by the still, well swaddled form of the human girl.

Estel split his time between fending off Elrohir's taunts and watching her. He hadn't ever spent much time with his own kind and he found himself fascinated by her. She was unlike any female he'd ever met. Her face lacked the smooth, uninterrupted beauty that came so naturally to the elleth.

She was tan, her hair shorn short in an uneven bob. The thick bandages wrapped around her eyes hid most of her features, making the tip of her nose seem to appear awkwardly out of nowhere. The swelling of her jaw had gone down, though the bruise had matured to an aching grayish-blue that spread even to her lips. Elladan was diligent in his care of her though and Estel had no doubt that by the time the fortnight was up and they reached Imladris it would be gone completely.

She was sweating now and Estel frowned, thinking perhaps it was best if he brought it to his brother's attention. Before he could however, the girl groaned. All talking ceased as nine sets of eyes turned to stare.

As they watched she shrugged off the cloaks around her, sitting up feebly. Her hands were remarkably steady as they reached up, fingertips brushing across her bandages.

* * *

Jack sighed as she finally managed to push the heavy heat from around her. She'd woken to the feeling of being stifled. For a moment she simply stared at the vanilla colored world around her before her brain functioned enough for her to realize that something was covering her eyes.

Frowning she reached up, tracing the stiff fabric as it wound its way around her head. She felt her brows furl in confusion as she inhaled, smelling the sharp scent of…menthol? What the hell?

Jack wanted it off. Now.

She found the end of the roll and began to frantically to scratch at it, letting out a startled curse moments latter as hands still her own. She scuttled backwards rapidly, almost immediately smacking into another body. She flinched away, only to smack into yet another body. Christ, how many were in here?

"Be calm, child." A pair of gentle hands pried her clenched fists from the bandages. "No one means you harm."

The voice was soft – melodious and perfect almost – and Jack shrank away from the unnaturalness of it. She'd never heard a voice sound like that before. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It wasn't threatening, per say. It just didn't sound human. No, it wasn't human.

Jack tried to speak, but found her voice little more then a weak whisper. Something smooth was pressed against her lips and seconds later a cool, sweet liquid filled her parched mouth. She shook her head – she didn't want to drink it – and spilt the unknown liquid across her front.

"What-"

"Do not fear. It is just herb water, to help combat the fever." The coolness was once again at her lips and this time Jack drank it greedily. The liquid sat warmly in her stomach and when the hands guided her down onto her back she didn't fight it. Her moment of panic cost her and Jack could already feel exhaustion setting in.

There was the sound of rustling and murmuring around her and Jack fought to stay awake, more then slightly nervous to be surrounded by so many unknowns. She struggled to sit up again, but her body refused her commands and she fell backwards.

A second set of hands caught her and guided her down, a new voice adding itself to the fray. Jack felt herself visibly relax at its obvious human tones.

"Please, stop struggling." She allowed herself to be pushed back, her head tilting towards the new voice. "You need to sleep or you won't recover."

Jack nodded and let her head fall back against the ground, closing her eyes behind the stifling bandages. She drifted off to the sound of sniggers and another crystal clear voice.

"My, Estel, you have such a way with the ladies."

* * *

_Of Incomprehension _

1999 CE - June 29th

Alex stood in his stirrups and plucked a stem from the pine nearest to him. He stared at the frost coated tree needles for a moment in dark consideration before sinking back into his saddle. Joseph had noticed the change in temperature this morning, but being the damnable fool that he was, Alex had pushed the warning aside as simply unseasonable weather in favor of worrying over other things. But then they'd ridden into the snow. It had started out as just frost and a cold that made those who brought jackets pull them hastily on. Then it had been an inch of snow. Then two. Then three. And now the horses were standing in nearly a foot of snow.

His cousins were both sitting stiffly, glancing wearily at the dim woods around them. They had come to a halt, the search party resting a few feet a head of them. Several of them were on the ground pawing at the snow as if they did it enough times it would go away.

It was clear as day to that the woods had changed. They gone off property and a freak weather front had moved in or…or something.

Next to him Joseph shifted nervously. "I'm telling you, something's fucking watching us."

"Stop being so fucking paranoid and grow a pair." Louis rebuked sharply, "And don't be so damn loud."

Despite the bravado, Louis was nervous as well. The oldest of the three, he the held his reins in a white knuckle grip in one hand, the other resting on the flap of his gun holster. He rode slightly behind them, as if he was a rear guard and his sharp, bird like eyes never left the vegetation around them.

Alex frowned as he leaned against the saddle horn, brows furled in thought. It was a strange feeling of unease that filled him, one that he never felt before. It reminded him of being very little and making the mad dash for the bathroom in the middle the night.

"Look, I know you don't want to hear it again but we're being fucking watched." Joseph voice was low, quiet, but his tone held a strange pitch to it. "It's like…it's like…"

He didn't know if it was Joseph's words or just the fear he heard in them but Alex suddenly knew exactly what he was feeling.

"Like we're being hunted." He finished softly, watching as both of his cousins' face snapped to stare at him, mirror images of the dread he felt curling in his own belly. Next to him, Louis unsnapped the tab that secure his gun and slid his fingers into the canvas holder.

"There's something to the left of us. Moving fast – no, don't look. Keep looking ahead." Louis slowly worked his gun out, eyes pinned on a spot somewhere just a head. "I think it's heading for the main party, we should-"

An inhuman screech brought all conversation to an immediate halt. Ahead of them, Dell swung around to face the sound. There was enough time for his Uncle to give off a warning shout before they were upon them. The sound of eighteen guns exploded around them – firing violently at what ever the hell it was that was suddenly pouring out the forest around them like black insects.

There wasn't time to think – only react – and Alex urged his horse forward. They needed to join the group if there was any chance of survival at all. His horse refused him, rearing up on all fours as one of the dark things charged them. Alex landed hard on the ground and turned to fire on the thing charging him and froze.

It was shaped like a man and Alex had thought maybe they were men, but it wasn't a man. He didn't know what the fuck it was but no man ever looked like that. His moment of hesitation cost him and the thing brought an axe the size of his head swinging down at him.

There was the sound of shotgun blast next to him and the thing was suddenly barreling ass over head backwards. Louis stood protectively over him, face pale but grimly determined. He'd traded his rifle for his shotgun and was firing indiscriminately around him as Joseph tugged Alex onto the saddle behind him.

Inhuman screams came from in front of him and Alex looked up, gun already raised to meet whatever new deviltry had appeared – and blanched in horror. They weren't inhuman screams at all. He watched, stunned, as the main party was torn limb from limb and _devoured_.

In front of him Joseph made a choking sound and vomited down his front and across the horse's neck. Alex snapped back to reality, wrapping his arms around his cousin's waist and grabbing the reins from lack hands. He yanked them violently to the right and kicked his horse into motion. A quick look behind him assured him that Louis was following.

So were the monsters.

"How the hell are they so fast?" Louis shouted, pushing his horse harder. Joseph had taken the reins back from him and Alex concentrated on trying to shoot behind him. It wasn't accurate, but it didn't need to be. They were everywhere.

And Louis was right. They were fast.

With a curse, Alex realized he was empty and in his panic threw the shot gun from his hand. He reached around Joseph to pull the rifle loose only to find it was missing. With a cry of frustration and he reached for the other gun holsters but found them empty as well.

"Louis, I need a gun!"

But his cousin didn't seem to hear him over the screams. He didn't get a chance to ask a second time. Without warning the ground before them came to a sudden end, a looming drop that had come so un-expectantly that the horse had no time to stop. With a shout Alex leapt from it at the last moment, pulling a struggling Joseph with him. He hit the ground hard a few feet from the edge, crying out in pain. He knew instantly that he'd broken his collar bone but he ignored it as he frantically crawled to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the raging river that apparently ran miles beneath it. Watching the horse fall seemed so unreal – so impossible. Even when it slipped, still neighing desperately, beneath the brown-grey waters. For a moment Alex could only stare at the place it had been in utter incomprehension.

A hand gripped the back of his shirt and pulled him up onto his feet. It was Louis, screaming at him though Alex couldn't understand what he was saying. Behind them Joseph was firing desperately but the dark things carried on towards them, un-intimated by the numbers that fell.

He felt like he was watching a movie. None of this was real. It couldn't possibly be real. Everything muted – colors, sound – Alex watched the approaching group with indifference. Couldn't be real.

He let out a gasp as Louis' fist smashed unforgivingly against his gut. The pain seemed to snap everything back into focus and with a bang sound returned to his world.

"-time for shock, damn't! We have to fucking jump!"

"-ucking cliff!"

"-seph! Now!"

And then the three of them were falling and all Alex could think of was the horse.

* * *

Climbing to consciousness was a hard fought battle and one that Jack wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do. But a deep rooted survival instinct drove her into wakefulness. An ancient need to know where she was and what was happening around her. The first thing that she was aware of was the sensation of being on a horse. The second was the mixed scent of winter pine and the unmistakable smell of a man.

The latter made sense, she supposed, as her face seemed to be hidden in the junction where his neck met his shoulder. Jack wasn't sure how it ended up there but the mere thought of moving seemed to fill her with exhaustion. Besides, it was cold. The wind blew relentlessly and even though she was wrapped in a woolen blanket, it seemed to always find away in.

And so every breath Jack took was colored with the man's scent. He smelled strongly of body odor, the kind a man got after weeks of no washing, but just under it was a strange scent. Some sort of spice. Jack had never smelled anything like it.

Her eyes where still covered with the itchy wrapping but Jack didn't dare reach for it and risk anyone knowing she was awake. Her wrists were bound in front of her, but so lightly that Jack suspected it was more to keep them secured to the smooth leather saddle she felt underneath her fingertips then to keep her tied up. There was talking around her – those unnatural voices again that instantly put her on edge – though Jack didn't recognize any of the subjects they spoke about.

It was strange the way they talked. The unnatural ones spoke with an accent she'd never heard before. So did the man she rode with when he spoke, though Jack swore she'd heard him speak with a completely different one when he had spoken to her earlier. Regardless of the change in the sound of the words, she was positive it was the voice of the man from before. His English was the only human sounding one in the group and she was so very glad of it.

The thought of one of the strange voices holding her had been a source of unease. Desperately Jack wished she could see – to the point that she'd almost dared to ask one of _them _to take off the blindfold_ –_ but once again the thought of moving at all discouraged her.

The man holding her shifted and Jack tensed as she was readjusted. The little movement gave her away and the speaking around her slowed to a stop.

"You should try and rest more." The man said kindly, pulling the blanket higher around her. Jack found herself strangely obedient, relaxing almost immediately into sleep once more. She never knew how long she slept – time seemed to have disappeared from Jack's world completely. But she did wake periodically, always for far too short a time, and every time to the sensation of moving. And to the scent. His scent was always there when she woke.

She supposed she should have been disgusted by it, but Jack wasn't. Perhaps because it was the only consistency in her groggy, vanilla colored world, but to her the scent had become comforting. A reassurance each time she awoke that she knew at the very least that it wasn't one of the unnatural's holding her.

It wasn't much control, but it was something, and Jack clung to it fiercely. And when she had awoken to the feel of her being shifted to the left and unfamiliar hands roaming across her, for the lack of a better phrase, Jack freaked the fuck out.

She struggled widely against the one holding her, nearly falling to the ground before several hands caught her at once, ignoring the rapid fire conversation going on around her and at her. Her resistance wasn't much but it proved somehow enough and Jack was passed back into the familiar scent.

To Jack's great relief no one tried to remove her again. She knew she'd have no energy to resist a second time.

* * *

III 2949 - Hrívë 63rd

It was an uncomfortable journey for Estel. The girl made for an awkward ride, completely dead weight against his chest. He didn't truly mind though. Estel found himself growing attached to the girl. Or perhaps it was just the mystery of her as his brothers had so teased him about. It was hard for him not to be invested in her well being. They hadn't been apart for the entirety of the journey.

They hardly dared to stop, not with her health as fragile as it was and their Captain's stern warning to bring her alive and they had ridden nonstop day and night. The others had offered to take her after the first night, but the girl had such a negative reaction to Rinvil's attempt to carry her to his saddle that Estel had taken her back almost immediately and no one had tried again.

Estel had no idea why the girl seemed to trust him so, but it was hard to not feel some sort of connection to her due to it. Not with her breath warming his neck with each step they took. The responsibility Estel felt for her grew with every bandage change, every time he fed her bread soften with water or wine or carried her to the privacy of a bush. Before he knew it, he found himself invested in her well being, in her survival.

They were only three days or so away from Imladris and Estel was grateful for his father's healing abilities far surpassed any of their own and he was eager to have her in the safety of his care. The others teased about his affection for the blind girl, but it was not the affection of love he felt for her, however it was they twisted his words.

Estel couldn't quite explain what or why he felt the way he did, but he did. The girl on his back mumbled against his neck, her lips leaving goose bumps as they brushed against his skin. He sighed and tightened his grip on her. He knew the life that awaited her if she survived for be a harsh one. The life of the disabled was usually a short one filled with harsh misery. Even if Elrond was not already predisposed towards pity for the blind due to his wife's fate, his great kindness would ensure that the Elven Lord would care for her. What kind of life that left for her he did not know.

Estel shuddered. He could not imagine loosing his own sight. To live in eternal darkness, without colors or shapes…he could not do it. To think –

A hand on his arm jerked him roughly to the left and out of the path of a low lying branch from a willowy pine. Estel looked sheepishly at a highly amused Balewath's face.

"Pay attention, little one, or next time I shall let you hit it."

"Ah, yes." And with that he tucked his thoughts and focused on the climbing path ahead of him. They were almost home, it would not due for Estel to make a fool out of himself anymore then he already had.

* * *

_Of Outcasts_

1999 CE – July 6th

The room was completely silent - not even the solid drip of the coffee maker or the sound of the cook fumbling in the kitchen seemed to manage to break the heavy atmosphere that had filled the small southern diner. The eatery wasn't abandoned however, it was filled with the same handful of people that came in for lunch and more then a few that had come solely for the air conditioner. There was at least a dozen or so people scattered in the old style diner, all facing the same direction and wearing almost the same look of mixed disbelief, curiosity and downright hostility. Maybe even fear.

Anyone looking in would have thought they were watching some sort of horrible news report on the television – except the diner didn't have a working one anymore. All news came through a decrepit old AM/FM that was precariously balanced above the pick up window. But the radio wasn't what held the good town's folk of Greenie, Tennessee attention so raptly.

From where she sat, Sheriff Louisa Mare watched the source of the crowd's anxiety from above the edge of her coffee cup. Caleb Templite was a constant source of speculation and gossip in this town. At the moment, there seemed to be little reason for the stares, the young man was simply using the diner phone. He wasn't saying much, just nodding every now and then like the person on the other line could somehow see him and occasionally muttering seemingly incoherently into the cradle.

It was a well known fact that Caleb didn't have a phone and anyone who was trying to reach him left messages with Carla, the diner's owner. Carla had had a soft spot for Shirley and though she didn't seem to like Caleb much she never complained about it.

She glanced around the room, slightly amused at how dumbstruck the others were. Louisa supposed she shouldn't be surprised by how his presence affected her sleepy little town. This happened every time the young man ventured onto Main Street – which was not often, not that Louisa could blame him. If people stared at her they way they did him, she'd never come to town either.

Louisa had been born here but had left for a few years to try her hand at school in Nashville. Perhaps it was her few years away from the mob like mentality that came with living in a small town that allowed her to weed through the utter amount of bullshit said about the boy and find the few granules of truth.

Shirley Templite had moved to the town ten years ago, only a few months before Louisa herself had returned. At first, Louisa had thought there would be no problems. Shirley was a good god fearing woman, if a little too sheltered and naïve for most and no one knew a thing about her crazy family. Louisa had heard the name Templite before. One of her roommates had done her thesis paper on religious cults and had used the Templite clan as one of her subjects of interest.

But as time passed it became clear that neither Shirley nor her son were fitting in. Caleb never attended school – to the point where she'd been called in by the state to ensure he was receiving an education at all. The state needn't have worried. Louisa had found Caleb an incredibly smart young man. He seemed to be prospering under his mother's homeschooling and each year he passed his state required tests just fine.

In the eyes of Tennessee, there was nothing wrong with the two of them. In the eyes of the town everything was wrong. They never attended church or came to town outings, they had no social contact with the town outside of the Sunday dinner they took at Carla's and the occasion shopping trip.

In every sense of the word they were odd. And they could not have managed to alienate the entire town anymore then if they purposely tried. And with Caleb Louisa wasn't entirely unsure that wasn't the case. Ever since Shirley had passed on five years ago, Caleb's behavior seemed to grow more bizarre.

And then to add insult to injury there was his appearance.

For all intensive purposes, Caleb was a god. At least in the eyes of the women of Greenie. There had certainly never been a man that looked like Caleb Templite in this town her living memory. The men despised him for it and so did the women, once they realized he wasn't about to glance twice in their direction. This had led to the public speculation that he was gay, which true or not was not really helping his cause around town.

There was the sound of plastic hitting plastic and Louisa was jarred from her thoughts to see Caleb hanging the phone up. As he turned from the wall she felt her breath catch, her heart trilling just for a moment as he turned to look at her fully. Louisa tore her eyes away from the soft grey eyes that were watching her with an air of resigned familiarity.

After all this time, you think she'd stop being shocked by his damn face.

When she looked up again she gave him a rueful smile and gestured for him to join her at her table. Caleb did so hesitantly, eyes scanning the crowd around him. Almost immediately everyone seemed to set about to eat their cold lunches and drink their warm beers, eyes looking everywhere but the gorgeous young man.

"So," Louisa said softly, taking another sip from her coffee. "A phone call, eh?"

"Yes." Caleb said with a sigh, reaching up and tipping the lip of his trucker hat from forehead and itching a spot there before pulling it back down. "I got some…bad…news." He seemed to trip over his words for a moment, something completely unlike him.

"Oh?"

"I'll have to back to the Colony for a bit."

Louisa set her cup with a thud of surprise. "…not that it's any of my business but I thought they weren't that happy with you."

Caleb shrugged sending her a small, one sided smile. "Yes, well. It seems my Grandfather and Uncle have gone and gotten themselves murder by my cousin, my aunt's been committed, my father, my cousin – not the one who did the murdering mind you – and half-brothers have disappeared completely and the police have taken several of my relatives into custody for questioning."

The words were nonchalant, rolling from his mouth in one smooth undisturbed sentence. As if he wasn't telling her that his family had some how self destructed and been blown to hell. Louisa stared at him dumbly for a moment.

Then, "Jesus."

Then again, "Jesus."

She couldn't think of anything to say other then that (_What the fuck was someone suppose to say to something like that?_) and settled with running a hand through her grey streaked hair, staring at the young man across from her.

"You're taking this incredibly well."

Caleb leveled her with an annoyed look. "I was never on good terms with them – surely you don't think Mom and I where living out here of our own free will?"

"Uh, I knew that." Louisa said sheepishly. She had known that. Carla had let it slip to her one night, years after Shirley's death, that her husband wasn't dead like she told everyone. Caleb was the child of an affair and in punishment the two had been thrown out of the Colony. She was about to ask why he was even bothering to go back when Caleb sighed resignedly.

"It seems that my Grandfather never updated the will after we left. With everyone gone, the lands have somehow fallen into my hands."

"Wait a minute, are you telling me you own the Colony now?" Louisa asked as through a mouthful off coffee. Choking a bit, Louisa quickly swallowed the liquid and repeated the question to a stiff nod. "Damn. I don't envy you, kiddo."

The smile she received was the tersest she'd ever seen him have.

"I don't plan on staying there. I'll need you to look after Ginger while I'm gone." He slid a key off his key ring and slid it across the table. Louisa caught it, fingering its edges it confusion.

"What?"

Caleb spoke with the tone of severally put upon man. "Ginger Bell. My cat. While I'm gone."

Louisa stared at the gold key in her hand. A cat? Caleb had a cat? She couldn't imagine the brooding young man snuggling with – the sound of the door bell caught her by surprise and when Louisa looked up, Caleb was already on the sidewalk.

She stared after him dumbly, watching his dark form as it slowly retreated. Then she slipped the key into her breast pocket. After a moment Louisa chuckled, eyes crinkling in amusement as she brought her coffee up to her lips once more.

"Ginger Bell."

Go figure.

* * *

**Mini-Appendix II:**

**Imladris -** The Elvish name for Rivendell.

**Elleth –** Female elf.

**Ellon** – Male elf.

**A Note on Language – **So Jack has been granted fluency in languages, as will everyone else from her world will be. See coming chapters for more of an explanation on that. But basically, at this point she doesn't recognize that she is speaking different languages. To her, they all sound like English with different accents. So, while she manages to speak both Westron and Sindarin.

**Westron – **Otherwise known as Common Speech, spoken by most men (excluding Rohan and a few other notable ones). Hobbitish is basically Westron, but has it's own distinct dialect.

**Sindarin –** Due to a long and very complex history which I encourage you all to go read, Sindarin is pretty much the main form of Elvish in ME, with Quenya being used mainly in poems, songs, and ceremony. However, like any language its incredibly diverse with several different dialects.

* * *

Dedicated to **Kiariad **and **Afina Kedavra** , for inspiring me to tackle my fear of rewriting this story. I get a little nervous with this story and their reviews inspired me to soldier on. Thanks.

Depending on how this new chapter goes over, I think I will have the next one up in about a week or two's time.


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